


Another Storm Weathered

by posingasme



Series: Rock, River, Tree [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Asexual Castiel, Big Brother Dean, Bipolar Disorder, Gen, M/M, Manic Depressive Disorder, Medication, Past Jessica Moore/Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-28
Updated: 2016-05-28
Packaged: 2018-07-10 19:15:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7001884
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posingasme/pseuds/posingasme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel has loved Sam through many of the most difficult challenges any couple has to face, including mental illness. He is Sam's rock, and Sam is his everything. </p><p>The storms are all just part of loving him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Stone

“How did you two meet?”

Castiel cringed. This story never shone him in a particularly favorable light.

But Sam thought it was hilarious, so off he went, talking about the way he had needed some extra cash while studying as a sophomore at Washington and Lee, and had taken a job delivering food on the weekends. “Across town is the military school.”

“VMI,” Castiel sighed.

“Virginia Military Institute. Full of good-looking officers-in-training, starved for processed foods.”

Castiel scowled. “You go three years without a decent cheeseburger. The rules were strict there. No outside food was the least of them.”

“That’s why I was a General, sweetheart, not a cadet.”

He rolled his blue eyes. “That’s never going to get old for you, is it?”

Sam grinned at him.

He leaned against the wall and let the story continue. He didn’t need to listen. He had all the memories safely tucked away in his own mind.

It had been ten years since he had first seen that gorgeous smile. Sam had been the one who got the backdoor missions, as they were called by the cadets who were willing to risk demerits for a bit of delivered Chinese or pizza. Backdoor heroes, Castiel and his roommate called the guys who came sneaking onto campus and around the side doors to deliver to the grateful cadets. Gabriel always tipped enormously well. It was Castiel’s job to keep watch for the officers and seniors. On that particular night, Sam had arrived with their subs and hot wings, and Castiel had alerted them to the officer on his way through the halls. Gabriel, in his infinite wisdom, panicked and threw both Castiel and the poor delivery kid into one of the storage rooms. At the end of the twenty minute chat with Gabriel, the officer had insisted the young man join him on his rounds.

“Which would have been fine if Cas and I weren't locked in the storage room!”

Sam's audience laughed, and Castiel watched him with fondness. He loved the way the man could draw in a group with his charisma. Castiel himself was socially clumsy at times, but Sam was smooth and captivating. Castiel was quieter, more serious, but he too basked in Sam's voice and boundless energy. Castiel had often thought of himself as stone-the side of a mountain perhaps-strong, quiet, unchanging. Sam was the river crashing through it, the gorgeous, unstoppable waterfall spilling and dancing over Castiel. Their roles suited each of them; Castiel was the foundation, always there to steady and break Sam's inevitable fall, and Sam kept the constant chatter and laughter flowing through Castiel's quiet. They made the perfect pair.

“So what did you do?”

Sam cackled happily. “Well, we were stuck in that room for three hours. We definitely got to know one another!” He grinned at the man standing off to the side a bit, leaning against the wall. “All because he couldn't follow the rules!” he scolded playfully.

Castiel gave him a faint smile. “You were tipped well,” he reminded him in a quiet tone.

The wink was insufferable. “Sure was,” he laughed, and the others laughed with him. Then he shrugged. “For the rest of the time, Cas was a model officer. It was only the lack of what he called decent cheeseburgers that drove him to desperate measures.”

“Model officer,” Cas murmured later as they walked from the house by themselves. “That what I am?”

“My love,” Sam laughed. He leaned in heavily, and Castiel allowed him to snuggle into him, by wrapping an indulgent arm around his waist. Sam took a deep, dramatic breath, and Castiel waited for what was coming. “You are the very model of a modern Major General! You've information vegetable, animal and mineral. You know the kings of England, and you quote the fights historical, from Marathon to Waterloo, in order categorical…”

“Sam? I love you.”

“I know.”

He smiled softly. “It's time for medicine.”

Sam nodded. “Yup. You take good care of me, Cadet.”

“My pleasure, General.”

They walked in silence for a while. Castiel kept his arm securely around Sam's waist, guiding him.

“Sam? Why do you tell those stories over and over? No one cares but us.”

“That's not true. They all want to know how to find their own Castiel Mir. They don't know you're the only one, and you're mine.”

Castiel smiled down at the sidewalk. “I think everyone who even glances at us knows I'm yours.”

Sam tossed a grin at him. “If they don't, I'll make sure they learn.” He stepped away from Castiel then, and threw out his arms, to shout at the heavens. “You hear that? He's mine! I kidnapped an angel, and clipped off his wings, and brought them to you, and it fixed everything!”

He hurried to shush the man. “Sam! Not so loud! You're going to wake the whole neighborhood!”

“Good! So they'll know-”

“And not everything is a Bon Jovi song or musical theatre! You always change the lyrics to suit you anyway. It makes me crazy.”

Sam's infectious laugh echoed off the buildings around them. “You love me!” he reminded him.

Castiel sighed. “I know,” he responded, and he took hold of Sam again to guide him to the right house. Who knew where he would end up if he didn't?

It was three hours before he got Sam to sleep, and by then, Castiel was exhausted. He picked up the phone and placed his call, and leaned into his hand to wait.

The deep voice on the other end was even huskier when it was coming out of sleepy disuse. “Yeah, Cas. What's up?”

“I'm sorry to wake you, Dean.”

“No, no. I'm up. I'm up. Been up.”

Castiel smiled to himself. It was three in the morning. Clearly the man had every right to be asleep. But he would never admit that Castiel was bothersome.

He imagined Dean sitting up in bed and scratching out his short hair. “What's, um. What's going on? Sammy okay?”

“No, uh, he's cycling high now. And I'm working tomorrow. He's going to be okay. I just…”

“You need another set of eyes on him.”

He lay his head onto his arm on the kitchen table, and let his eyes close as he talked. “I thought he had peaked already, that he was coming back down. So I said yes to us going to a party tonight, just some folks that moved into the neighborhood throwing a thing to meet everyone.”

He could hear the wince. “Yeah. He do anything he shouldn't?”

“No. Nothing like that. Just clearly not…”

“Balanced.”

“Right. And I shouldn't have...I mean, he needs to keep his sleep schedule, and I know that-”

Dean stopped him immediately. “Cas? Don't do that, man. Okay? It isn't your fault. You look out for him. I know you do. You have for-what? Ten years?”

Ten wonderful, breakneck-paced years. “Yeah.”

“Yeah. If I can't be there looking out for him every minute, I'm glad it's you that is.”

It still, after all this time, seemed wrong to talk about Sam needing someone looking out for him. He was an adult, after all. But it wasn't so simple as that. Sam was a very capable, brilliant man. But no matter how smart he was, nor how good a man, during hypomanic or depressive episodes, or the occasional dreadful mixed episode, Sam’s judgement was impaired so disturbingly that those who loved him had to take measures to keep him safe.

It was just part of what it took to love Sam Winchester. It wasn't a challenge everyone could rise to. Some who met Sam during the good times couldn't imagine what it could be like in the bad ones. Only Dean and Castiel had the strength and the unconditional love necessary to withstand every episode. Castiel was the stone, and Dean was the great, strong tree that survived every storm, by bending with the wind instead of breaking, and he kept Sam rooted.

Sam was worth it. He was worth every minute of lost sleep, every worry, every fear, and every ache. Even in the beginning, before there was a diagnosis, even during the maddening, exhausting eight months of struggling to find the correct dosage of the right medication, one that had more benefits than side effects, even then it was worth it. It was never a question for Castiel. He had given himself to this man in heart and soul, and nothing was going to come between the stone and his river.

“You still with me, man?”

Castiel startled awake. “I'm so sorry, Dean!”

There was a soft, sympathetic chuckle on the other end. “I warned you he was exhausting before you moved in with him, dude.”

He smiled a little, and ran a hand down his face. “It's all right. I don't mind.”

“Yeah, but you gotta work in the morning. I don't. So get some sleep. I'll pack a bag and come stay the weekend with you. I'll be there in time to cook you some eggs before you gotta go; how's that sound?”

Castiel felt his eyes burn with tears, and he closed them tightly. “That sounds...wonderful,” he sighed.

It was another half hour, spent preparing the guest room and ironing a uniform for the morning, before Castiel could finally slide into bed beside Sam. If he fell asleep right at that minute, he could get three solid hours of rest before his alarm sounded.

But instead, he curled into Sam's warmth, and shifted the man to drape him over his own chest and right leg and arm, wrapping his General in a protective embrace. Sam gave a happy sigh, and then went still again. It was the only time all day that Sam had been still.

Castiel thought of Sam as his lover, and that was certainly what he was. But not in the sense that others might have expected. They didn't actually have sex. Castiel was asexual, and Sam had never needed much himself, except when he was hypomanic, in which case, they had ways of helping him ease the tension without traditional sex. But Sam was an irrepressible flirt all the same. Most days, that quality was used only on Castiel. About four times a year, however, when Sam was cycling very high, Castiel could see that charm being spread in a wider net, and he could feel his stomach knotting uneasily. Sam had never been unfaithful. But all logical understanding of consequences flew out of Sam's head during these episodes, and Castiel was left to fret inside his own head.

To say that Sam Winchester was attractive was practically insulting to the truth of it. Castiel did not experience sexual attraction the way most people did, but the magnetic draw to the man was as strong for him as it would be for any other. Something about Sam made the universe reflect his moods. When he was high, the whole world seemed more colorful, more fragrant, brighter and sweeter. When he was at his low points, the world dimmed to gray, everything tasted bland, and the air seemed stagnant and oxygen-depleted.

Sam loved him. There was no doubt of that. And he would never set out to hurt him. But the ability to empathize faded during these times, and Sam couldn't see how his actions or words could affect Castiel. Sometimes a stray thought, spoken aloud, cut Castiel's breath short, and his heart to the quick.

Things had been better since they had found the medication that worked well for him. It didn't exactly prevent the fast-cycling mood changes, but it made each episode far milder, far more manageable. Sam could be trusted to take his medication even during an episode now, which was a relief. Castiel could now reason with him about important issues during all but the highest manic times. And the episodes themselves were less frequent and didn't last as long as they used to. Instead of three weeks of stomach-churning madness every few months, Castiel estimated that most lasted only about four days, and they came only about once every four months. The doctor said even that might yet improve, and Castiel was hopeful.

The depressive stages were horrible. They weren't nearly so pronounced as they had been years ago. Castiel could remember coming home from work to find that Sam had never gotten out of the bed. He stared without seeing, did not respond to Castiel's speech, and could not make himself eat. Now, it looked a lot more like a weary, rainy day than an oppressive, sweating, moonless, starless night. Sam still functioned during those times now, and he even laughed here and there, and Castiel lived for those moments of sunlight through the clouds.

Both the highs and the lows were exhausting in different ways. But it was all part of what made up the fascinating thing called Sam, and he loved the man with every part of himself.


	2. The Roots

Dean grinned at his brother. The man didn't even seem the slightest bit surprised to see him in the kitchen. “Hey, kiddo. Eggs?”

“Yeah, they are.”

The older man shook his head. It was always the little things like that which clued Dean in that Sam was in an episode. Something was always just a bit off.

“Sam, I think your brother was offering,” Castiel sighed, “not looking for confirmation that's what is in front of him.”

Sam blinked at him. Dean knew the guy's brain had already moved on to something else, and he was having to backtrack to figure out what Castiel was referencing. “Oh,” he said finally. “Eggs. Yeah, I'll have some.”

The man continued to shake his head, and plated some of the scramble for his brother, who had opened the refrigerator.

“Sam, your brother made breakfast.”

Sharp hazel eyes flickered at Castiel in impatience. “Obviously. I'm just getting juice. That permissible, Captain?”

The officer's own gaze lowered to his plate. “Yeah. Of course. I'm sorry.”

Dean let an eyebrow peak. “Would you like yours with or without an apology to the only guy that still puts up with your bullshit?”

Sam turned his glare on Dean now, but the older man had the advantage of almost twenty more years experience in withstanding Sam's wilting bitchface that Castiel did not, and he kept his own eyes steady.

Castiel sighed. “It's no big deal, Dean. I shouldn't have assumed he wasn't tracking the conversation.”

But Dean didn't move until Sam did. “No,” the younger finally relented. “No, he's right. I'm a bitch this morning. Sorry, Captain.”

Dean didn't miss the slight smile left on Castiel's lips after Sam kissed them.

Then Sam was off again, and Dean could practically smell his brain working. “So, I'm working on a new set design for _Victor_.”

Castiel frowned. “Since when?”

He received a shrug. “This morning. I'm going to completely redo the restaurant!”

“Sam, the set is complete! You open in a week! Please don't call the set director to change anything. She's going to quit on you.”

He shook his head and dove into the eggs. “No, Cas! That's the best thing! I think I can do it all myself without bothering Sarah at all! It's fine! Really!”

Dean glanced at Castiel, who was clearly swallowing his opinion. “Okay. That's great. Just...sketch everything out, okay? Please? Before you actually change anything? Plan every detail out first.”

Dean snickered a little. Castiel wasn't a rookie. He knew Sam would spend hours obsessing and sketching, and never actually make the changes before they could get him stabilized. Then, if Sam still thought the changes were a good idea, he could run with them.

That was the thing with hypomanic episodes. Sam became short-fused and dangerously unpredictable. But he was also immensely creative. Dean had often wondered if this was partly because his brother's usual anxiety and self-doubt disappeared for a week or two, and he didn't second-guess himself as he sometimes did. It was amazing what a brilliant man could accomplish when he thought he could do no wrong.

Speaking of which…

“Hey! Bulletproof! We're not drinking at seven in the morning. Or at all. Put it away,” Dean barked.

Castiel smiled shakily, and lifted his plate to load it into the dishwasher. “I see you two have some fighting to do, so I'm going to go to work. If you need anything…”

“I know where to find you,” Dean promised.

The officer put his hand on Dean's arm. “I'm glad you could visit,” he said with unmistakable gratitude in his voice.

“Yeah, when the hell did you get here, anyway?”

Castiel kissed Sam and put his hand on his cheek. “I love you, General.”

“I know. I love you too, cadet.”

After the door had closed behind him, Sam’s smile dropped, and he squared his shoulders with his brother. “So? He called or you did?”

He winced. “It isn't like that-”

“No? You're not here to babysit your volatile little brother?”

Dean frowned at him. “I'm here to spend time with my pain-in-the-ass little brother,” he corrected. “And, yes. You need some company now. Cas can't be with you every freaking minute. He's got work, and he deserves a break.”

Sam nodded. He was obviously trying to keep his temper under wraps. That by itself was an enormous improvement over the way things were years ago. Before the meds had been regulated right, Sam had flown into an explosive rage whenever he felt like he was being coddled. These days, he simply narrowed his eyes and bit his tongue.

To Dean, bipolar was far less the Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde that most people expected, and far more Jean Grey and The Phoenix. Sam wasn't less like himself while manic. He was far more himself. Everything was magnified, including the man's genius and charisma, but also his temper and sarcastic bite. Then in low times, it was like all the wonderful things that made him Sam were drained away, stretched far too thin, diluted and desperate. It broke the heart of everyone who loved him.

But today, he was too much. “I'm going out.”

“Wait. Look, I've been driving all night and I'm exhausted. And I know you can't feel it right now, but you are too. Let's stay in for just a while.”

Sam shook his head. “I've already jerked off twice, redesigned the set for _Victor/Victoria_ , and fixed a closet door. I've been wired all morning. Let's go.”

Dean laughed wearily. “Tell me about the party last night.”

It was nearly too easy to distract Sam on days like this. Soon, the younger man was pacing the floor, retelling stories, gossiping about neighbors Dean didn't know, complaining about the lack of musical theatre literacy among the average crowd, sighing about the puppy that had been at the house, and explaining what was challenging about dog ownership, and debating about whether it would be worth it for him and Castiel, considering their work schedules and travel for work…

Dean listened patiently, and let Sam run with his thoughts, wherever they took him. It was fun watching him so animated, and Dean fed on the excess energy until he couldn't feel his own exhaustion anymore. It used to be that Sam wore him out, down to the bone, made him feel like he wasn't able to keep up. Now that the episodes were more mild, Dean could feel the waves crashing into him but it only transferred energy, rather than robbed him of his.

But suddenly he felt cold water pour down over him, and he stared at his brother. “Whoa. Back up. Sam, stop. What did you just say?”

It was clear Sam had no idea what he had just said.

“About the woman in the dress? The hostess?”

Sam began to grin. “Cara Roberts. Dr. Cara Roberts. I mean, wow, dude. She's something else.”

Dean's frown deepened. “Yeah. Something else. Something other than Cas.”

He waved this off. “I'm not going to do anything! And really, what does it even matter, right? It wouldn't mean I didn't love Cas! Obviously I love Cas! It wouldn't mean anything. Cas wants me to be happy!”

He nodded slowly, feeling a little sick to his stomach. “Just like Jess wanted you to be happy?”

“Exactly!” he laughed.

Dean shook his head. “Jess, the girl who left you because you screwed Brady during an episode?”

Sam sighed. “This is different. I loved Jess, but not like I love Castiel. He's it for me. Endgame.”

The fact that Sam could look at this from such a backward point of view was evidence that Dean had made the right choice in visiting, that Castiel had been right to call. If Sam's judgement was this skewed about his relationship, he could easily make a decision that could get him physically hurt.

So Dean had to be careful about the way he addressed this. “Okay. Technically? Ain't none of my business. But I've thought of Cas as my brother-in-law, as family, for ten years-”

“Exactly!” Sam cried. “Ten years! You know I haven't had sex for ten years?”

Dean's mouth was open, but whatever he was going to say stalled on his tongue.

Sam pointed at him, and dropped onto the couch dramatically. “See?”

He shrugged with confusion. “I don't get it. What's that mean?”

The younger man lay back, draping a long leg over the back of the couch in a sprawl. “It isn't that big a deal usually. I don't even miss it. We do fine. But then I see something like Cara, and I know I could have it if I wanted it…”

There were plenty of things Dean didn't understand about what Sam had just said. But there was one thing he did understand. “Wait. So you don't even want this woman? You're just up for the challenge of bagging her.”

“That's the fun part,” Sam shrugged.

Dean was torn in his feelings on that, and he would probably be up all night forming an opinion. But right now, he had a brother-in-law who needed him to have his back. “Sam, it's fun knowing you could have someone else. And it's fun having someone else. But then that's over and in just a few minutes, you've screwed up something that could have lasted forever. Cas is forever, Sam. That's a much better challenge than a night with a woman you don't really need.”

“You're one to talk.”

“Yeah?” he snapped. “Because I would give up everything I got for half of what you have. In a heartbeat. Why do you think I'm here right now? Nobody knows you like I do, and I know how in love with that man you are. And I'm not letting you do something you're going to hate yourself for in a few days, and for the rest of your life.”

Sam licked at his lips. Dean could see his brain struggling with the puzzle, trying to make sense of the overload. Finally, he sighed. “I've been close a few times.”

It broke Dean's heart. “Yeah?”

He didn't look at him. “I know what happened with Jess. I hate what happened with Jess. I hate that I hurt her. But right now, that's...that's academic, you know? I know it. But it doesn't mean anything right now. I know in a few days, I'll barely know what I was thinking, what made me think it was all right. It's so strange to watch yourself be stupid.”

Dean snorted softly. “I watch myself being stupid all the time.”

“No. You're smarter than you think you are. But I'm talking about...Have you ever looked at yourself from a point of dissociation, where you can see yourself doing things that don't make sense?”

“I don't know what that means.”

Sam nodded, and he seemed sad suddenly. “Yeah. Because it's part of a disorder you don't have. I know better, academically. The facts don't change.” He smiled a little then, and glanced at his brother. “You ever do something, snap at somebody or something, just because you're hungry? And it feels completely justified at the time, like you've got every reason in the world to be pissed. But then later, after you've eaten, you realize you wouldn't have felt or reacted that way if you weren't low on blood sugar.”

“Sure.”

“It's a little bit like that, except after I eat and feel better, I realize I broke a guy's nose in a bar and fucked my girlfriend’s best friend in her bed, and I can't remember why.”

Dean sighed. “It's better now than it used to be.”

He stared up at the ceiling. “No. It's so much worse. Now, instead of being completely in that cloud, where nothing even needs to be justified, and consequences aren't a real thing, not for me, now I can see how much of an asshole I'm being, and I still can't do  
anything about it.”

“You said...you've been close a few times.”

Sam blinked at him, then nodded. “Oh. Yeah. I guess I have. I never think. I can't think. Somebody looks interesting, looks like a fun challenge...I can't make myself...It's like nothing is permanent. Nothing matters. I can justify anything on days like today. And now, with my meds...I can't completely forget that consequences exist, and that they hurt other people, that they'll hurt me later, but I ignore it anyway, and that makes me more of a monster, doesn't it? I know it would hurt Cas; it would crush him, and yet, I still want to find out if I could talk Cara out of her husband's bed and into mine. Not because I want her so much. Because I want her to want me.”

“Have you ever cheated on Cas, Sammy?”

The hazel eyes stared at nothing for a long time. Then he smiled, and tears spilled over his cheeks. “Not the way you think. Not...I've never had sex with anyone else while I was with Cas. But making love means something else between us, Dean, and...I've been damn close to betraying him. Not in a long time. But I have.”

Dean didn't understand any of this. But “damn close to betraying him” wasn't the same as having done so. He sighed with relief. “Don't start today. You two have problems, you work that out. Don't do anything that will force the issue.”

“He wouldn't leave me.”

Statements like that worried Dean. “You don't know that.”

Sam burst into laughter suddenly, and Dean could feel the energy pumping back into the room, tainted in bitterness. “Of course I know!” he said too loudly. “Damn idiot hasn't left me by now, it doesn't matter what I do! I love that man like nothing in the world, but he's an idiot.”

His chest hurt. The cruelty in his brother's laugh, the memory of the way Castiel had lowered his eyes after Sam had snapped at him, it all hurt. The men were so good together ninety percent of the time. And the rest of the time, they cultivated a private hell between them that tormented them both in a cloud of shame and doubt. “Sam, stop.”

“Why?” The man leapt to his feet like an irritated cat. “Am I making you uncomfortable? Does it bother you that Cas can't walk out on me, or that we both know it?” He stalked out of the room, calling over his shoulder. “Cara’s nothing to me. But I could have her. Just like Cas is everything to me, and I can tear his heart out. I could fuck Cara right in front of him, and he wouldn't leave me!”

Dean scrambled to follow his steps toward the door. “Sam!”

The man turned then, and Dean stopped, stunned, as panicked sobs erupted from his little brother. “Why won't he leave me?” he hissed hoarsely.

“Jesus, Sammy,” he sighed, and then Sam was in his arms, sobbing in desperation, trembling head to toe.

“What do I have to do to make him leave me? To make him stand up for himself?” He was screaming now, with no real voice.

Dean led him back to the chair, and let him sink into it. Sam held his head in his hands while Dean rubbed circles into his back. It felt like a hundred times before, when Sam was a child, when Dean didn't know what to say, but he refused to leave his kid brother's side while he hurt.

“I don't just hurt him. I humiliate him. I embarrass him. I break his damn heart! He doesn't sleep enough, he goes to work exhausted, and he worries all day, and then he comes home to take care of me, and all I do is make things harder for him. He's got this stupid idea,” he gasped angrily, “that I'm worth this. Nobody is worth this! Especially not me! But he pretends I am. Lies to himself. Because he's invested ten years in this, in me, like I'm ever going to make that even! I don't want to take the meds anymore, Dean! I want to just let this thing tear me apart from inside my skin, because he won't leave me, not while I'm still…”

The older man's eyes closed against the unfinished words.

Sam licked his lips and looked up. “Not when he lies and tells himself it's getting better. He won't leave me. And so I kill him a little more every day, and for what? So he can take care of me longer? So I can hurt him more? Please, tell me. What is the upside to me being alive?”

“Tell me about the play.”

He threw himself up, to pace the floor, and Dean recognized it as a conscious choice to not punch him. Yet another benefit from the medication: Dean hadn't had a black eye in years. “Who cares about the damn play?” he screamed.

“Cas does.”

He laughed sourly. “Of course he does. Because I do. Because I've been eating, sleeping and breathing this stupid show for months. Because it's the most important show of the season. Because I've wanted to do _Victor_ since I was twelve and in love with Julie Andrews. And none of it matters even a little right now. Do you get that? I spent all morning redesigning a set that's been finished for three weeks. We open in a week. And none of it matters. None of it. I could cancel the whole show, and I'd feel nothing. Everyone's hard work, everyone's late nights, everyone's sacrifices.” He snapped his fingers. “Nothing.”

“It won't be nothing in a day or two.”

“I don't want to be here in a day or two! Don't you get that? I don't want to look back at all the mistakes I've made and hate myself for them! I can't put Cas through this anymore! It's not worth it, no matter what he tells himself!”

Dean's flinch was too pronounced to hide.

“See?” Sam jabbed a finger at him. “See? You too! How much sleep did you lose last night? What's it costing you to miss work? You can tell Cas you were off today, but what's the point in lying to me, when I know you haven't had a Friday off for twelve years? What's it costing you, Dean, to come here and look after a thirty year old man who just makes you miserable for doing it?”

“You're not thirty yet.”

“And I don't want to be! Not when it means you and Cas are put through crap like this.”

He took a breath, and could feel his voice deepening. “You're my brother.”

“You say that like it means something!”

Dean swallowed hard. “It means everything. To me. And it'll mean at least a little to you in a few days.”

Sam stood again. “It's all bullshit. Family. You can go out and have fun with strangers. You can get off with strangers. You can have all the good stuff with strangers. Family is what hurts you! Family is what burns you, drowns you. Loving people, that's the only way you can get your heart broken. Me and Cas. Name one other person on the planet you consider family. One other person who could possibly hurt you. And I hear you thinking it! Me and Cas, we’re all you got. And I'm telling you you'd get a lot more sleep and have a lot less pain and stress in your life if I weren't in it! You're Dean fucking Winchester, man! You could be out there doing anything right now! Or anybody! What the hell are you doing here?”

Dean shook his head sadly. “I'm taking care of my family.”

The sobs were bitter and full of humiliation. “Dude, go! Why won't you just go?”

He smiled a little, and shrugged. “You know me. Then you know why. I'm not leaving my brother alone out there. You’d never leave me.”

Sam leaned his weight onto his brother in defeat, and heaved a sigh. “Yeah,” he whispered. “Yeah, I know.”


	3. The River

Castiel crept into the house quietly. If Sam was napping, he didn’t want to risk disturbing that. Sam needed his sleep.

It was Dean’s snore that met him as he stepped into the living room.

He couldn’t help but smile at the scene. Relief sank in, and amusement too.

Before he could even speak, Sam snorted. He did not even face him. “He’s so determined to keep me from going anywhere that he passed out on top of me. That way he’ll know if I try to get away.”

Dean’s head was on the couch pillow that lay on Sam’s lap, and he was sprawled across the couch. Sam had his video game controller in his hands, and he was literally leaning his elbow onto Dean’s chest to play.

Castiel noticed that Sam was self-aware enough to be speaking in a soft tone, so as not to wake his brother. That was a very good sign. “How are you feeling?” he asked with trepidation.

“Smothered. And hungry.”

“I can cook us something.”

Finally, Sam paused his game, and turned toward him. He lifted Dean’s head and slipped out from under him carefully. Dean snored at him in protest, then went quiet again. Sam snickered at him. “Some prison guard he makes,” he laughed. But there was a fondness in his voice that would not have been there that morning. Castiel was glad to hear it.

“What would you like?”

Sam put his arms around him gently. “A kiss. And forgiveness.”

He closed his eyes and let the man hold him. He knew this cycle had not run its course yet. But Sam had peaked finally, and was working his way back down. Castiel could tell by his voice and the way he met his eyes without flitting his gaze away. He had worried that it would be another week before he saw the man he loved balanced again. Just a day or two wait instead was a welcome gift. “A kiss you’ve got. Forgiveness? You’ve done nothing I have to forgive.”

He pulled Castiel into their bedroom and closed the door. “How do you know?” he asked with lowered eyes. His fingers busied themselves unbuttoning Castiel’s uniform.

Weariness flooded over him. “I know,” he murmured.

“I might have. I’ve done awful things before.”

Castiel nodded. “I know. But you’re the one who needs to forgive yourself for those times. You’ve never done anything to me but let me love you.”

Sam sighed, and there were tears sparkling in his eyes when he lifted them. “That was bad enough, wasn’t it? I think of it all the time, that one day I’ll look back and wish I hadn’t. The most wonderful man I’ve ever met, the most generous, the most courageous, the most selfless. He loved me. I shouldn’t have let him love me.”

Sam had the unique ability to break Castiel’s heart in a new way every day. It wasn’t something he would ever regret. “Sam, you would never have been able to keep me from loving you. You’re everything musical and exciting in my life. You’re every color I’ve ever known. You’re like stained glass in a hurricane. No matter what happens, I’ll always be the thing you can hold onto in the storm. It’s what I want to be, for the rest of my life.”

“Don’t you wish you didn’t have to be that? Don’t you want some peace in your life, Cas?” The tears escaped his long lashes, and flitted down his cheeks. “Cas...I’ve been crashing all day, and...and I can’t help...Cas, if I weren’t here, you’d be free. You could know you’d done the best you could, and you could move on. You wouldn’t have to let me hurt you anymore. If I weren’t here, you’d be free,” he repeated breathlessly.

Castiel heard the undertone, the undercurrent pulling them both down to drown, and he stood strong against it. He took Sam’s hand and refused to let him wash away. “Sam, listen to me. Nothing is worth losing you. You are the love of my life. If you think I’d be better off without you, you haven’t been listening. I need you. I want you. I love you. Nothing, Sam. Nothing is worth losing you.”

Sam was nodding very slowly. “I’m so tired, Cas. I’m crashing, and I just want to let it take me.”

But his lover shook his head. “Sam, we’ve been here before. We’ll be here again. You’ll go over the fall, and I’ll be waiting for you. Your brother is here to keep you rooted. I’m here to hold you steady. You’ll fall, but you won’t break. I promise.”

The large man took a shuddered breath. “Hold me? Make love to me.”

A wave of affection splashed across Castiel’s face, and he nodded. “Come on,” he said softly. He helped his general undress down to boxers, and did so himself, and they climbed into the bed. Things were getting better, but Sam would always need him, and that was just fine.

Making love the way they did was intimate and soothing, and it gave each exactly what he needed. Castiel pulled their bodies close, his strong chest to Sam’s warm back. Years of practice matched instinct, and their entangled fingers moved so that the pulsepoint of Castiel’s soft wrist rested right over Sam’s heart. “I never want you to stop wanting this,” Sam confessed. “Please never stop wanting this.”

Blue eyes closed. Castiel felt their hearts beating together, their contact sealing them in. Dinner and talk would come later. Right now, Castiel simply wanted to let them be still, and let their love pool around them, and if the winds were still howling in the distance, at least it was warm inside this embrace.

***

_The clock up on the wall keeps ticking_   
_And it always will_   
_But here with you we have the power_   
_To let our love be still_

_Stay right here_   
_Just relax_   
_Let’s get lost_   
_Just lay back_   
_And let it all slip away_   
_Slowly watch_   
_The night roll into day_   
_Let two hearts in love_   
_Go where they will_   
_Time may fly but love be still_

~Trick Pony


End file.
